


The Measure of a Hero

by Denise



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-02
Updated: 2012-08-02
Packaged: 2017-11-11 05:58:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/475270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denise/pseuds/Denise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Content Warning- Language, some images some might find creepy<br/>Summary- Way back when, I was making fun of the show's writers and taking bets on how they would 'fix' heroes to make it a happy ending. Thankfully, they didn't. (not that I like what happened, but I'm glad they didn't take the easy way out). Someone challenged me to write my ideas down on paper, and out came a fic. An alternate ending to Heroes. Not meant to 'fix' a brilliant episode, just making a different ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Measure of a Hero

* * *

Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

* * *

"Did they give you any idea about the injuries?" Janet asked over her shoulder as she hurriedly changed her clothes, fumbling a bit with the slightly unfamiliar fastenings of the BDU's. She hadn't really been briefed on the situation, her only clue that something was wrong being the klaxons announcing an unscheduled off-world activation and then a terse phonecall, instructing her to gear up and get ready to render medical assistance off-world.

"No. Just an urgent call for back up and medical assistance," Sam replied, changing her clothes much more efficiently. Of course, it helped that the major was already partially dressed, fatigues being her normal apparel. "SG-5 and 15 were on P3X387 doing a survey. All we know for sure is that Captain Graham opened the gate thirty minutes ago, literally screaming for help. He said they were under attack from Kali's and Bastet's Jaffa and that they needed a doctor," Sam explained. "General Hammond authorized us and SG-3 to go through as backup and he's recalled SG-7 and 8 to be backup for us if we need it."

Janet nodded, tucking her laces into her boots and standing up. "When do we leave?"

"As soon as we're in the gateroom," Sam answered, fastening her tac vest. "The guys are changing right now."

Janet hefted her heavy bag and the two women hurried from the room, making their way to the armory where they checked out their weapons. They arrived in the gateroom to find the rest of the men waiting. 

"Dial it up," Jack ordered, giving the doctor a quick look. "I have no idea how many and how bad," he briefed Janet. "You hang back, stay with Carter, then stay at the gate. We're gonna scoop and run if we can't secure things."

"Yes, sir," she said, understanding his concern. As a non-combatant, she needed to stay out of their way, allowing them to secure the area before she could do anything. It went against every instinct she had to just hang back, but she knew it was necessary. She wouldn't be able to help anyone if she were dead.

The gate opened with a dramatic whoosh, bathing the room in an otherworldly glow. The two teams stayed at the base of the ramp, waiting for orders. Jack looked up to the control room.

"MALP shows the area near the gate to be deserted, sir," Davis reported.

Jack nodded. "Okay. Move out," he ordered, following the other people up the ramp. "Keep your head down," he advised Janet, giving her a reassuring nod.

She sighed, steadying herself as she walked up the ramp, Sam at her side. Her hands clenched around the strap to her bag and she felt her palms sweat. She envied her friends; they had a distinct advantage over her. Not only did they go through the gate on an almost daily basis, they also went into combat situations, which was something she rarely did.

She had the utmost faith in her friends and knew that they'd keep her safe at all costs. She was just concerned that they'd be so worried about her that they'd put themselves into danger. And that thought scared her more than anything else did.

She stepped through the gate, fighting the urge to hold her breath and after a couple of dizzying seconds emerged on P3X387. Sam grabbed her sleeve and quickly pulled her to the side, crouching down beside the MALP still left there from the first trip to the planet. After giving Janet a reassuring pat on the arm, Sam moved forward, following O'Neill's silent communications. Janet watched them disappear into the trees, two members of SG-3 remaining with her at the gate.

She set her bag down by the gate platform, nervously studying her surroundings. The stargate was located on the edge of a clearing, the area in front of consisting of some low grass and the occasional rock. The treeline was about ten yards behind the gate, the clearing fading into short trees and bushes, then taller and darker forest beyond.

Neither area gave her any comfort. True, if anyone approached them from the front, they could see them. It also meant that anyone could be on the other side of the clearing, watching them, and they'd never know it. The trees behind her didn't give her any comfort either. She knew how easy it would be for any Jaffa to lie in wait in the dense foliage, waiting to pick them off at their leisure. 

She also wondered about the injured, how many there were and how badly they were hurt. It had to be severe if Captain Graham had asked for off-world medical assistance. But how much would she be able to do here? If O'Neill was right and they couldn't secure the situation, all she'd be able to do would be usher them through the gate.

"Relax, Doc," Pierce advised.

"Major?"

"They're back when they're back," he said, walking over to her. "Could be five hours, could be five minutes."

"How do you know?" she asked, trying to follow his suggestion and relax.

"If everything's okay, O'Neill will call," Sanchez said.

"And if it's not?"

"The gunfire is a dead giveaway," Pierce said ironically. "Don't worry, Doc. The shit hits the fan, Sanchez can have the gate dialed and open in thirty seconds flat."

"That's nice to know," she replied, knowing that there was honest reassurance under the man's slightly crude language.

She sat down on the stone steps, her hands nervously drumming her knee. The two men paced, their weapons held at the ready. Was this how it always was for her friends? The hurry up and wait, adrenaline pumping so fiercely that your hands shook? Desperate for something to happen to give you something to do, yet afraid that something would happen and that you'd make a mistake and screw things up.

Gunfire echoed through the trees and her head shot up. "Shit," Sanchez cursed softly, altering his stance to face the source. Pierce knelt down beside the gate platform while Sanchez squatted by the DHD, ready to provide cover fire, but both taking care not to expose themselves.

The gunfire drew closer and now she could also hear assorted yells and cries, often punctuated with the unmistakable sound of staff weapon fire. "Get that gate open!" she heard O'Neill cry over the radio.

Sanchez got to his feet, hurriedly dialing the gate. The second it whooshed open, Janet watched him send the IDC code. 

"There," she said, pointing towards a disturbance in the trees across the clearing.

"Got it," Pierce acknowledged. 

Janet watched the six members of SG-1 and 3 hurry across the clearing. She could see that Sam, Daniel, Griff and Martinez were struggling, each supporting a member of SG-5 or 15 and that O'Neill and Teal'c were straggling behind, attempting to provide covering fire for their retreat. Three more members of the captured teams were moving under their own power, their stumbling gait attesting to their harsh treatment at the hands of the Jaffa.

As they got close, Janet tensed, her every instinct crying for her to go help the wounded, but knowing that she couldn't do a thing but make it worse were she to step from under cover. Sanchez and Pierce started firing, signaling that the fleeing personnel were close enough for her to help. She stood up; ready to relieve someone from the man they were helping to free their hands.  
  
"Fall back!" O'Neill ordered, turning to face the oncoming Jaffa.

"Where's Graham?" Janet asked, doing the head count and coming up short.

"Don't know," Sam gasped out, hurrying past her.

Movement to her right caught Janet's attention and she stared in horror as Graham came out of the trees, stumbling unsteadily. Seeing that everyone else had their hands full, she dropped her bag, hurrying to help him, ignoring Pierce's cry.

Reaching him, she pulled Graham's arm over her shoulder, staggering under his weight. She maneuvered them to the gate, her heart lurching when she realized that everyone else had gone except for O'Neill and Pierce. The Jaffa were still approaching, now less than a hundred yards away. "Wanna pick up the pace there, Doc," Jack said, expertly changing the clips in his gun.

She tried to move faster, falling to her knees when Graham tripped, pulling her down. She struggled back to her feet, moving the two of them forward. She heard a loud yell and looked up, her heart falling as she saw O'Neill fall, Pierce moving to help him. The Jaffa were now within fifty yards and she knew it would be close.

Graham saw it too, cursing under his breath as he tried to move faster. They reached the base of the platform. "Go!" she yelled to Pierce. A burning sensation tore through her back and she fell, staring in horror as Pierce fell back, through the event horizon, and the gate snapped shut. The pounding of Jaffa boots was the last thing she heard before darkness swept up to claim her and she knew no more.

  
<><><><><>

  
"They live," D'Jare pronounced, roughly rolling the two Tau'ri over. Both of them had been stuck by staff weapon fire, the male on his back right above his mikta, the female high on her back, near her shoulder. 

Ra'ken snorted, his disappointment plain on his face. D'Jare knew this was not good news; they'd already communicated to Anubis that they'd captured some Tau'ri and he knew that he would not be pleased to discover that those same prisoners had escaped. "Take them back to the camp," Ra'ken ordered. "We shall hope that they are enough to appease Anubis."

D'Jare stood up, motioning two of his men forward. They each slung one of the Tau'ri over their shoulders. "What if Anubis is not appeased?" he quietly asked Ra'ken.

"I do not know," his leader replied.

"The men were worried before this happened."

"They are like old women," Ra'ken said.

"They know Anubis will take vengeance for our failure out on their families," D'Jare replied, following Ra'ken as he led the way back to their encampment. He should have known that their encounter with the Tau'ri was going to be more trouble than fortune. They hadn't been looking for Tau'ri; in fact, they'd hope to avoid contact with anyone.

Their presence on the planet was simply a result of the mission they'd been given by Anubis, to search for an item he believed was secreted on the planet. When they were unable to find it, they'd thought that encountering the Tau'ri was a good thing, that maybe it would appease their lord. Anubis had made it clear that he wished to capture any Tau'ri his Jaffa came across and they hoped that delivering to him seven of their warriors would deflect his attention from their failures.

Instead, now all they had were two wounded Tau'ri, one of which was a useless female, and still no item. "We should return to Trewlage," he said.

"No," Ra'ken said. "Anubis is traveling here. He will be even more incensed if we are not here to greet him."

"Can we at least move the encampment? Make it more difficult for the Tau'ri to find us when they return?" he asked as they entered their camp. The two warriors carrying the Tau'ri stopped, awaiting orders. D'Jare looked around, silently mourning what he saw. Six of their number had died, their bodies lying where they'd fallen. Two more were injured, their fellow warriors tending to their wounds until their primta could heal them.

Ra'ken sighed. "Very well. Restrain them. We shall move to the caves and seek shelter there," he ordered.  
The Tau'ri were lowered to the ground and secured with ropes, although D'Jare knew their injuries were severe enough that they'd be a minimal threat.

Before the sun had moved much in the sky, they were on their way, their numbers halved and burdened by both their injured and their captives.

  
<><><><><>

  
"I tried, sir," Pierce said. "Colonel O'Neill passed out, his weight shifted and pushed us through the gate. The last thing I saw was Doctor Fraiser and Captain Graham going down."

"Were they hit?" Hammond asked.

Pierce nodded. "At least one of them, sir. Maybe both. I couldn't tell."

"General, we need go back," Sam said, the fear she felt for her friend a heavy, bitter weight in the pit of her stomach.

Hammond shook his head. "You know I can't authorize that, Major."

"They could still be alive, sir," Daniel protested.

"Doctor Jackson, you know I can't authorize a mission given the resistance you faced."

"So we're just going to abandon them?" Daniel asked.

No one at the table replied, all knowing the harsh reality. They couldn't risk more lives going into an openly hostile situation without some sort of evidence that someone was alive. True, the unofficial motto of the SGC was to never leave anyone behind, but the general also would not waste the lives of his people by sending them on a one way trip through the gate. "I'll authorize a UAV to do a flyover and see if it can find some sign of them," he said. "However, unless we see signs of life, I can't in good conscience send teams to their death to simply recover bodies," he said gravely.

"It is possible that the Jaffa will not take their remains and will just abandon the planet," Teal'c said. "Not all Goa'uld possess a sarcophagus."

"If that's the case, sir, I'd like to volunteer my team for recovery," Pierce said.

"Me too," Sam spoke up. "Or rather, the three of us," she corrected.

"Noted," Hammond said, recognizing the officers' need for closure that the officers had. "Major Carter, Cassandra…."

Sam blanched, knowing what her superior officer was asking of her. "I'd like to go tell her in person," she said.

"Of course," he agreed. "I don't believe Doctor Fraiser has any family in the area. It may be best if you bring her here for the time being."

"I'd like to go too, sir," Daniel said.

"Very well. Doctor Warner has told me that it'll be at least two weeks before Colonel O'Neill can return to duty. Unless the opportunity for a rescue mission to P3X387 arises, SG-1 and 3 are on standdown until that time. I would like your reports on my desk before the end of the day and for you to make yourselves available should the need for an investigation arise," he ordered. He got to his feet and left the room, shutting the door behind him. 

Sam watched him sit down at his desk, pausing a moment before opening a file folder and picking up the phone. She knew what kind of phone call he was going to make. It'd been the call her mother had dreaded every time her father left. It was the same thing she was getting ready to go do herself, to tell someone that their loved one might not be coming home.

"Sam?" Daniel prodded. She looked up, realizing that they were alone, everyone else having left. "Did you want to go now or…."

"Yeah. Just let me change real fast. Meet you topside in fifteen?"

He agreed and she followed him from the room, her heart heavy, knowing that in an hour she was going to tell a young girl that she may have just been orphaned for the second time in her life.

  
<><><><><>

  
Janet opened her eyes, the burning sensation in her shoulder making her ill. She listened to the guttural voices and felt her heart sink. A dream. She'd so hoped that it'd been a dream. This wasn't supposed to happen, not to her. To the other teams, yes. She knew all too well that it happened. She'd signed more than her fair share of death certificates. She knew the odds and the risks. She was a soldier as well as a doctor. But she also knew that she was too valuable for them to risk. It sounded selfish and arrogant, but it was the truth.

General Hammond never put any of his people into danger unnecessarily. Although, it appeared this time that he'd miscalculated. That they'd all miscalculated. O'Neill and Pierce had to have made it home, she thought she remembered that. Which meant that it was just her and Graham. Graham. He'd been shot. She remembered running her hand over the raw patch on his back, muttering an apology as he grunted in pain, and then ignoring it all to keep up their frantic dash towards the gate.

She rolled over, biting her lip as the movement jarred the wound on her shoulder. Her hands were tied behind her back and her ankles were bound so she could do nothing but roll from her stomach to her side. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Graham, similarly bound. His eyes were closed but she could see that he was conscious, his face clenching in pain.

The Jaffa were a short distance away, clustered around a small campfire. It was dark, but didn't feel like outside. They were inside somewhere; she could hear their voices echoing off the walls. Graham moaned and she turned her attention back to him. His face was pale and his breathing harsh. She knew the pain had to be excruciating. "Hey," she said, wincing when her voice cracked and broke. "Hey!" she said louder, her heart stopping when they turned to look at her. "Let me help him,"

One of them got to his feet, walking over to stand over her. "What do you want, Tau'ri?"

"He's hurt. I'm a doctor, let me help him," she said. "A healer, I'm a healer," she explained in response to his frown.

"He has no need of a healer. Anubis will take care of him."

"You want us alive, or you would have killed us already. If he doesn't receive treatment, he'll be dead by the end of the day," she said, hoping that she was exaggerating. Graham moaned again, she hoped in response to her words, and she saw the Jaffa frown. "Just let me help him," she said, her voice softer.

The Jaffa looked back towards his friends gaining a nod from one of them. He grunted and knelt down, pulling a knife from his belt. He roughly cut the ropes binding her arms, then moved to her ankles, ignoring her moan of pain as her arms fell to her side, the movement jarring the burn on her shoulder. "Try to escape and you will wish we had killed you," he threatened, standing up and walking back to his friends.

She listened to him go, blinking tears of pain from her eyes before forcing herself to her knees. Her left arm hung limply at her side, cramped muscles and the burn rendering it mostly useless for the time being. She painfully made her way over to Graham, reaching out numbed fingers to touch his face. "Graham?" she whispered.

"Doc."

"How do you feel?"

"Not good," he admitted softly, that admission telling her more than she wanted to know. 

"Let's see what I can do," she reassured him. Realizing that her vest was gone, and the basic supplies that she carried in it, she looked towards the Jaffa, her eyes lighting on the stuff lying against the wall. Giving Graham a pat, she got to her feet, swallowing nervously before starting towards the supplies.

Immediately the Jaffa turned to face her, two of them reaching for their staff weapons. She stopped, holding up her hand in a gesture of surrender. "I just need my supplies," she explained, pointing at the vest. "There's medicine there. I need it for him." The one who had untied her again looked to his companion. The man sighed and nodded again. He got up, picked up the vest and tossed it towards her.

She tried to catch it, her still tingling hand failing. The vest slumped down on the ground and the Jaffa laughed, a couple of them making remarks in their native tongue. Ignoring what she knew had to be derisive comments, she bent over, snagging the vest and picking it up.

She made her way back to Graham, kneeling at his side. He was now unconscious, his breathing shallow and rapid. As she searched the pockets, trying to find something to keep him alive, she wondered if she were doing him a favor, or if the true mercy would be to simply let him slip away.

  
<><><><><>

"Mom?" Cassie yelled, opening the door. Seeing that Janet's keys were not on their customary hook, she knew that she hadn't come home yet. Hanging up her own set of keys, she set down her bookbag and walked into the living room. She made her way to the answering machine, knowing what the message would say before she played it. 

"Cass, I don't have time to explain. We have an emergency. I'll be home as soon as I can. Go ahead and order yourself some dinner, I know I have some money in the cookie jar. Be good and do your homework."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "There's a big surprise," she muttered.

Plopping down on the couch, she grabbed the TV remote and turned the set on. This was the third time this month that Janet had worked late. Definitely not in the mood for pizza, she surfed the channels. If it weren't against house rules, she'd call one of her friends and see if they wanted to come over.

A door slammed and she perked up. Thinking that maybe her mom's emergency hadn't lasted as long as she thought it would, she got up from the couch, moving to peek out the window.

Through the sheer curtains she watched Sam and Daniel slowly make their way up the walk. "Great," she muttered. Not only was mom going to be late, she'd sent over babysitters. She frowned as they got closer, the looks on their faces telling her that something was wrong.

She left the window and hurried to the door, pulling it open and dashing out onto the porch. "What's wrong? Where's Mom?" she demanded.

Sam looked at Daniel, both clearly reluctant to talk. "Cassie, let's go inside," he said. 

"No."

"Cass," Sam said, reaching out to take her arm. "We should go in."

She shook her off. "Something's wrong. I know it."

"Cassie…."

"Just tell me," she demanded. "What's wrong?"

"We were on a mission," Sam started. "Your mom came because someone was hurt. We started to take fire and…she didn't make it back," she said, her voice breaking.

Cassie stared at her friends, seeing the truth in their eyes, the sadness and acceptance on their faces. They knew more than they'd told her. "No," she said, backing away from them. "You're wrong. She just said there was an emergency; she didn't say she was going away. It had to be someone else."

"Cassie." Daniel stepped forward.

"No."

"Cassandra," Sam said sharply, raising her voice. "I'm sorry," she said softer. "It's true, it happened." She reached out and took Cassie's shoulders.

She closed her eyes, letting Sam pull her close, wrapping her arms around her. It did little to alleviate the sudden feeling of isolation that swept over her. Again, it had happened again. She was gone; her mom was gone, just like her first mom. "Was it a Goa'uld?" she whispered.

"What?"

"Did a Goa'uld kill her?"

Sam paused. "It was Jaffa," she said finally. "And we don't know for sure if she's dead, just that she was shot and that she didn't make it back," Sam explained. "You can't stay here all alone. Why don't you come back to the base with us?"

Suddenly numb, Cassie nodded. She pulled away, turning to go back into the house. Almost on autopilot, she turned off the TV and walked back to the entryway. She bent down and picked up her bag then followed them out the door. 

  
<><><><><>

  
Janet injected the last of the morphine into Graham and leaned back, smoothing the sweat-soaked hair from the man's face. He was getting weaker, and there wasn't a thing she could do about it. The burn on his back was large and deep and he was getting more dehydrated by the hour. That state would be made worse by the severe infection she knew would be inevitable. Even if she were back at the SGC, such a burn would be enough to put him on the critical list. Here, with the barest of supplies, all she could do was attempt to make him comfortable.

And he wasn't the only one. She looked over to the fire and the Jaffa gathered there. Two of them had been injured by her peoples' weapons, one of them severely. She could hear his ragged breathing from her place across the cave. He'd been shot in the chest, the much-vaunted armor-piercing rounds of the P-90 obviously doing their jobs. A collapsed lung, she diagnosed, probably some internal bleeding as well. It had to be bad, she knew, for his symbiote to not be healing the wound. She listened to the man's ragged breathing, clinically diagnosing his status.

They obviously had no idea how to treat him, other than making him comfortable until his symbiote could heal the damage. She didn't think that was going to happen, not this time. He was steadily getting worse, blood loss taking its toll. "Sit him up," she said, unable to stand it any longer. The Jaffa turned, eyeing her sharply. "He can't breathe lying down," she said, moving closer. "His chest is filling with blood. If he sits up, it'll help."

"You trust the word of a Tau'ri, D'Jare?" the leader asked.

"I am Tau'ri, but I'm a healer too," Janet shot back. "You make him keep lying down, he's going to drown in his own blood," she said, sparing a glance at the young man. She knew Jaffa ages could be deceptive, Teal'c sure as hell didn't look one hundred and three, but this man barely looked twenty.

D'Jare looked from the woman to his leader. "She has nothing to gain by lying to us," he said.

"Nothing but M'Reka's death," the leader said.

"Or M'Reka's life." D'Jare reached out and helped the man sit up, propping his back against the cave wall. Almost immediately his breathing eased, still a bit ragged but better. The leader grunted, and then left them, walking back to the fire.

"It'll help, but it won't fix him," Janet said. "He's bleeding inside."

"His primta will heal him," D'Jare said.

She shook her head. "I don't think so."

"If he is worthy of survival, his primta will heal him," he insisted. 

She sighed, knowing that she couldn't win this argument. "Primtas have their limits. What does it hurt to make their job a little easier?" He didn't respond and she shook her head, silently making her way back to Graham. She sat down beside him, gasping as the movement jarred her wounded shoulder. She leaned her head against the cave's wall and closed her eyes, succumbing to her body's need for sleep.

  
<><><><><>

  
Jack slowly woke up, biting back a groan as he felt the pull and tug of something on his chest. He was in the infirmary; he recognized the sounds and smells. Which meant that it hadn't been a dream-- he'd gone and got himself shot on the planet.

He brought his hand up, gingerly exploring the bandages on his chest. It could be worse, he guessed after doing a quick survey of the rest of him. He didn't feel any bandages anywhere else. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting against the brightness of the room. He looked around, doing an impromptu survey. He saw various members of SG-5 and 15, which was what he'd expected. They hadn't really had time to talk when they'd busted the men out of Jaffa custody, but he knew that some of them were certainly wounded badly enough to spend some time in Fraiser's care. And apparently, so was he. 

"Colonel O'Neill. You're finally awake." He turned to see a nurse walking over to his bed, Lieutenant Rush if he recalled correctly. "How do you feel, sir?" she asked, checking his IV.

"Been worse," he said, croaking a bit. "What's the count?" he asked.

"Sir?"

"Everybody make it back okay?" he asked. He knew something was wrong when she refused to meet his eyes, busying herself with writing things down in his chart. "Lieutenant?" he pushed.

"General Hammond will be glad to hear that you're awake, sir. He's asked after you."

"Do I have to make it an order?"

"Not everyone made it back, Jack."

He turned his head, focusing on Daniel as he walked up to his bedside. "Daniel, what the hell happened?"

Daniel smiled at the nurse, who gratefully fled. "We lost two," his friend said, pulling up a chair.

"Who?" Jack asked, trying to figure out who it could be. He remembered Carter and Teal'c going through the gate before him, the same with Daniel and the injured men they'd been helping. Which meant it had to be someone of SG-5 or 15. He felt more than a little guilt at the relief that ran through him. Losing any man or woman was bad, but he had to be honest enough with himself to admit that it would be worse to lose one of his friends.

"Captain Graham," Daniel said, pulling Jack's thoughts back to the present. Daniel broke off, taking a deep breath as if to steel himself. "And Janet," he said.

"What?" Jack felt his heart lurch. "No. They were right behind us. Pierce knows better, he wouldn't leave them."

"He didn't mean to," Daniel explained. "He fell backwards, the gate sucked him in. You know how it is if you get too far into the event horizon."

"What are they doing?" Jack asked, accepting his friend's explanation.

"Nothing yet."

"Why the hell not?" Jack demanded, pushing himself up on the bed, ignoring the tug of the bandages and various tubes attached to him.

"The General won't risk anymore lives until he has a better idea what's on the planet," Sam said, joining them. Jack looked up to see his second joining them, Teal'c behind her. He could see the grief on both of their faces, most especially Carter's. "He's going to send a UAV as soon as we can get one ready. "

"We shall return to the planet, O'Neill. And retrieve Doctor Fraiser and Captain Graham," Teal'c promised.

Jack nodded, knowing that his friend would keep his promise, even if it was to bring back their bodies, he would bring them home.

  
<><><><><>

  
A low moan drew Janet from her uneasy slumber. She reached out, her hand finding Graham's shoulder. "Hey," she said, slipping her hand to his neck to take his pulse. "How do you feel?"

He shook his head, barely keeping his eyes open. "Not so good. Thirsty."

"Okay. Hang on." She got to her feet, the fingers of her one good hand digging into the wall to pull herself up. The Jaffa were right where she'd last seen them, clustered around the fire at the mouth of the cave. The one called D'Jare was seated beside the injured one and the one she guessed was the leader gave her a look, narrowing his eyes in warning. "How is he?" she asked, nodding towards the injured Jaffa. D'Jare didn't respond, not meeting her eyes. She knelt down, taking his wrist and feeling for his pulse. "He's in shock," she said. "And he's losing too much blood," she diagnosed, feeling his clammy skin and rapid pulse.

"His primta will heal him," D'Jare said.

"Normally, yes. But not without help," she said. "Look, I've been Teal'c's doctor for years, I know how it works," she said. 

"The sholva," Ra'ken said, his voice bitter.

"His name is Teal'c," she insisted. "And I'd be saying the same thing about him. Your friend here will not live long enough for his symbiote to heal him." She sighed, seeing the disbelief in their faces. "My bag. Did you see my bag? I remember dropping it."

The two Jaffa looked at each other. "Yes," D'Jare finally admitted. "I saw such an item."

"If you could get it for me, I could help him. Help both of them," she said.

"His primta…"

"I know all about his primta. And I know that without help, they both will die," she said, raising her voice. 

"Ra'ken, you know that Lord Anubis is not tolerant of weakness. If we return with M'Reka in a weakened condition…."

"We are returning with our mission a failure. Do you wish for M'Reka to be healthy when he's punished?" Ra'ken said.

"Ra'ken, what if the Tau'ri is right?"

M'Reka coughed, his breath rattling in his chest. "Our lord will not arrive until tomorrow," Ra'ken said, turning his back on the pair. "What you do until then is not my concern."

Janet looked to D'Jare, who nodded. The Jaffa silently got to his feet and left the cave. She sighed, and then reached out, picking up a canteen of water. She made her way back to Graham, hoping that the Jaffa would return in time.

  
<><><><><>

  
"Launch when ready," Hammond ordered, standing back to watch his people work. 

"Yes, sir," Carter replied, typing the commands into the computer. He watched the small plane swoop up the ramp and through the event horizon, taking a flight longer than its developers had ever dreamed of. "UAV has reached the planet," Carter said as the monitors sprang into life, relaying the video feed from the machine. George watched the plane make a lazy circle, scanning the area around the gate. He could see evidence of the firefight, charred earth and flattened grass testifying to the ferocity of the battle.

"No sign, sir, of hostiles or friendlies," Carter reported, her voice a mix of relief and dismay. George knew exactly how she felt. Not finding the bodies of their two missing people was encouraging; yet not finding them alive was just as disappointing. He knew as well as she did, that if they'd survived, they were likely prisoners. And just as likely that they weren't even on the planet any longer, but lost among the stars.

"Normal search pattern, Major," he ordered. "Let me know if you find anything.

"Yes, sir," she acknowledged.

He turned and walked up to his office, his heart praying for the miracle that his experience told him wasn't likely to happen.

  
<><><><><>

  
D'Jare peered from behind the tree, cocking his head to better hear the sound of the small flying machine fade away. He recognized it as something of the Tau'ri's. He'd seen them before, searching other planets he'd been on. Always in the past, the sight of these small aircraft preceded the arrival of the Tau'ri. So they had not given up in their search for their companions.

He was not surprised; the Tau'ri penchant for caring for their own was often whispered about among the Jaffa. It was said that one way to guarantee the ire of the humans was to capture one of their own.  
He left the shelter of the trees, knowing that this changed things. They might no longer have the luxury of waiting for Anubis to return. The Tau'ri might return before his lord did and he doubted if they could survive another attack.

Hearing the machine coming around for another pass, he hurried across the clearing, quickly making his way into the cave. The woman lurched to her feet, moving towards him, all semblance of her earlier fear gone from her face. She accepted the bag from him, taking it back to her companion. "You said you would help M'Reka," he challenged her.

"I will," she promised. "Just let me start an IV on him."

Her tone brooked no argument and Ra'ken snorted his derision. "Perhaps she will now have you kill yourself and save her companions the effort," he said in their native tongue. The other warriors laughed and D'Jare felt his face heat.

"Let us hope your words are not prophetic," D'Jare said as the woman finished with her task, returning to M'Reka. He watched her perform the same procedure, fixing a bag of clear fluid and using a small metal device to attach it to M'Reka's arm.

"Of what do you speak?"

"I witnessed one of their flying machines," D'Jare reported. "The Tau'ri are searching for their companions and will likely return."

"Then perhaps all is not lost," Ra'ken said. "SG-1 was with them before and may return. Lord Anubis will forgive us our failure at not retrieving the item if we could present him with such a prize."

"And if we fail like we did before?" D'Jare asked, his voice scornful. "Will Lord Anubis bear our bodies back to our families?"

"You speak in a dangerous way," Ra'ken warned.

"I speak the truth. Truth you can see if you will only open your eyes. The Tau'ri are returning because we have two of their own. They slaughtered half of us last time, and they will likely return in far greater numbers this time."

"You would have us return to our lord a complete failure?" Ra'ken challenged. "Or perhaps you harbor the fantasy that we can join the rebellion and live a full and complete life as outcasts, hunted throughout the galaxy," he said. "Or maybe you will be content just to have your family murdered in retribution for your betrayal?"

D'Jare fell silent, not having a response his leader's comment. He watched the Tau'ri woman work, his doubts screaming at him, a silent specter that promised death or salvation all at the same time.

  
<><><><><>

George walked down the hall, desperately wishing he was the bearer of better news. Major Carter and Doctor Jackson had brought Cassandra back to the base with them and he'd made sure the young woman had been assigned one of the VIP rooms. It was a temporary solution he knew, but the only thing he could think of. At least if she was here, she as among friends. 

He nodded at the SF and knocked on the door to the VIP room. He opened the door. Cassandra was sitting on the bed, her textbooks scattered around her. She looked up, hope flashing across her face until she realized that he was alone and her face fell. "You didn't find her," she said, abandoning her book.

George sighed, leaving the door open and moving to sit on the bed. "No. We sent a UAV but it didn't show us anything." 

She shook her head, obviously not quite understanding. "So that's it. That's all you're going to do?"

"No," he said. "Tomorrow we're going to send another UAV, and then, if it doesn't show anything, a team to recover the two UAVs and the MALP."

"And?"

"I've already sent word to the Tok'ra. A captured Tau'ri is big news. We know that the Jaffa were Kali's and Bastet's. It gives us somewhere to start," he tried to reassure her.

She nodded, clearly processing the information. "What about me?" she asked in a small voice. 

"Cassandra?"

"What if she doesn't come back?" She looked up to look into his eyes. "What happens to me?"

He sighed heavily. "Four years ago, we asked the same question amongst ourselves. We didn't ask you because we felt you were too young to have a say. That's changed. What do you want?"

"What?"

"You're old enough to make up your own mind. What would you like?"

She stared down at her hands, but he could tell that she wasn't seeing them, her mind likely thousands of miles away. "I don't know," she finally said. 

"What if you stayed with me?" George turned as Sam walked into the room. "Sir," she acknowledged. "Cassie, you can come stay with me, if you want," she offered, coming to sit on the other side of the bed.

"Sam, I…."

"I've been thinking," she interrupted, "about taking a break for a little bit. Now that we have so many teams, they're bringing back tech faster than I can take a look at it. We're sending more and more to Area 51 without even knowing what it is. I can take a break for a couple of years, get it caught up. That way I can be home each night. Then when your mom comes back, I can get back on a team. Or maybe I'll even stay Earthside."

"Sam, you can't.…"

"Colonel O'Neill knows, and he understands. I was thinking that I could even sublet my house, move into Janet's, where there's more room."

Cassandra didn't respond and George looked at Sam, meeting her eyes over the girl's head. He wasn't surprised to see no regret there, only grief and sadness. He should have expected this, should have remembered how hard the then Captain Carter had fought to adopt Cassandra four years ago. In his heart he knew that this was one of the better options available to them, and one the least traumatic to a girl who might have just lost her family for the second time in her life. It was also an option he'd considered for himself. He'd been months away from retiring when he'd assumed this command. It wouldn't be too farfetched for him to go ahead and retire, offering Cassandra a home and some stability. "Why don't we hold that option in reserve?" he said, breaking the silence. "We're not giving up on your mother just yet," he promised. 

Cassandra nodded. "Okay."

George got up from the bed, waving at Sam to stay seated. "It's late and it's been a long day. The two of you should get some rest," he advised.

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir," Sam replied.

George turned and left the room, shutting the door to afford the two women some privacy.

  
<><><><><>

  
Janet tilted her wrist, trying to focus on the second hand of her watch in the dim light of the cave. Despite the IV, Graham's pulse was still too weak and too fast. He needed more fluids, and better antibiotics than she had in her bag. Both of which she didn't have. She only carried two bags of Ringers with her, and they were both gone. She cursed herself for not bringing more, but how could she have known? It was just supposed to be a quick scoop and run, not an extended stay.

"Doc?"

She looked down and met Graham's glazed eyes. At least the morphine hadn't run out, she thought. She could give him that much comfort. Because of the drug, he'd been conscious a couple of times, but never quite lucid. "Hi. How do you feel? Do you need some more morphine?" She pulled an injector out of her breast pocket, holding it up so he could see it.

He shook his head. "Do me a favor?" he whispered, his voice so low that she needed to kneel closer to hear him.

"What do you need?" She reached for the canteen, awkwardly holding it so that he could take a drink. With D'Jare's help she'd rolled him to his side, keeping pressure off the wound while hopefully allowing him to rest more comfortably than he would lying on his stomach.

"My pocket," he said. She reached into his pocket, pulling out a small picture. It was hard, encased in a thin plastic and she guessed that he'd had it laminated to protect it. "Kristen," he said. "My wife." She studied the picture, smiling wistfully at the sight of the couple. It'd obviously been taken on their wedding day. He was in his dress blues and she was wearing a long white gown. Janet recognized the building in the background, the distinctive architecture of the Academy Chapel being familiar to her. "Give this to her," he said, holding out his wedding ring.

"You can give them to her yourself," she said, pressing the items back into his hand. "I'll bet the SGC's planning a real hero's welcome for us. You won't have to buy another drink for at least six months."

He shook his head, obviously not agreeing with her. "If you get a chance, go," he said, refusing to take back the ring and picture.

"I'm not going anywhere, not without you."

"No need for both of us to die."

"Who said anything about dying?" she said, injecting optimism into her voice. "You rest, save your strength." She reached out and touched his cheek. "You'll need it when the calvary comes over the hill."

He closed his eyes, obviously dismissing her and her words. 

"M'Reka?" She turned to see Ra'ken kneeling over the wounded man, shaking him.

Giving Graham a reassuring pat, she got up, making her way over to the two Jaffa. "What's wrong?"

"He does not draw breath," Ra'ken said. 

Janet laid her hand on the man's chest, still feeling his heartbeat. "His airway's blocked," she said, "Lay him down," she ordered, reaching for her bag.

"You said he could breathe better sitting up."

"That's changed. Now lay him down," she ordered.

Ra'ken obliged her and she scooted to kneel above his head. She tilted his head back and stuck the scope into his mouth, swearing softly at what she saw. "His throat's too swollen. I'll never get a tube in." She reached back into her bag, pulling out a scalpel. She held it over his throat, stopping when Ra'ken's hand grasped her wrist with bruising force. 

"You try to murder him," he accused. 

"He'll be dead in a few minutes if you don't let me do this," she said, looking him in the eyes. Ra'ken looked down at the Jaffa. M'Reka's eyes were open, his hand going to his throat in a vain attempt to breathe. She could see the terror and fear in his eyes as his body betrayed him. M'Reka grabbed Ra'ken's wrist with his other hand, silently giving his assent to the procedure.

Ra'ken let go. "He dies, you die," he declared, sitting back.

"This'll hurt. Hold his hands," she ordered. "Hold his hands!" she said more forcefully when he ignored her. He glared at her, then followed her orders, holding M'Reka down. "This will make it better, I promise," she told the injured man.

He nodded slightly, closing his eyes as she cut into his throat, a tiny bit of blood welling up. She knelt closer, struggling to see. A ruddy glow appeared and she glanced up, seeing one of the other Jaffa moving close, a torch held high. Blinking, she cut deeper, breathing a small sigh of relief when she saw the whitish rings of his trachea. 

Changing the angle of her knife, she cut horizontally, piercing the tough cartilage of his windpipe. Wedging the scalpel in, she immediately felt the stirring of his breath against her wet fingers. She felt M'Reka's body ease, his panic subsiding a bit. "In that bag, the outer pocket, there's a tube," she said. The man holding the torch just stared at her. She looked to Ra'ken. "I need to keep it open with a tube so he can breathe until the swelling goes down," she said. He muttered a few words in his own tongue and the Jaffa knelt, digging into the bag and pulling out what she was looking for. "Thank you," she muttered, struggling to tear off the sterile wrappings with her blood-slicked fingers. 

Finally freeing the tube, she slid it into the opening, having to maneuver it back and forth a bit to get it to fit between the heavy rings. Once it was securely settled, she grabbed the bag, pulling out some gauze that she packed around the cut and then she secured the tube with tape. "Once his throat opens, you can just pull the tube out. It'll seal up pretty much on its own. His symbiote will heal it in a day or two," she instructed.

Ra'ken nodded, releasing M'Reka's hands and leaning back. Her fading adrenaline leaving her feeling exhausted, Janet struggled to her feet, pulling herself up on the cave wall. 

She staggered back to Graham, wiping her sticky hands off on her pants leg. "Now, where were we?" she asked, kneeling down and picking up the canteen. She splashed water on her hands, cleaning off some of the sticky and congealing blood. "Graham?" she asked, getting no response. She looked at him, her heart lurching when she saw the stillness of his features. "Graham!" she said more forcefully, reaching out to touch his neck. 

Her wet fingers encountered nothing but still flesh, still warm and pliable to the touch. Her eyes were drawn to his hands, one of them still clutching the picture and the ring, the other lying at his side, the empty morphine injector lying beside it. She picked it up, noting in an almost detached way that it was empty. 

_No need for both of us to die._

She dropped the injector, watching it bounce as it hit the dirt floor of the cave. She got to her feet, her anger renewing her flagging strength. "You bastard!" she screamed, launching herself at Ra'ken. She got in a couple of blows, pounding her fists against his chest, one of then connecting solidly with his chin. "Why didn't you just let us go? I could have saved him! All I needed to do was get him home and he'd be alive right now!" He caught her wrists, easily restraining her. "You murdered him, and for what? To prove yourself to your 'god'," she ranted. "Your god is just a fucking snake who's using you. He's using you for his own gain and he'll let you die when he doesn't need you any more. There's no honor, no glory, just a greedy bastard of an alien who uses you like some street corner whore. That's what you are, you're just a whore, selling yourself to some creature!" Frustrated at not being able to hit him, she kicked him, using her heavy boots to bash at his shins and bringing up her knee to kick him in the groin.  
  
She connected solidly and he cried out, losing his balance as they fell over. His greater bulk crushed her, smashing her wounded shoulder into the ground, and she mercifully knew no more.

  
<><><><><>

  
Daniel tiredly scrubbed his hands over his face, moaning in relief as he closed gritty eyes. Even with his eyes closed, he could still see the footage from the MALP playing out in his brain. He'd been over it and over it, staring at each frame, hoping to see something, some sign of life. 

Rationally, he understood the General's position. They'd already lost two people, possibly more if any of the injured developed any complications. He just couldn't in good faith keep sending men and women to die in what might be a futile attempt to recover two bodies or retrieve two prisoners. He knew Janet wouldn't want that. Even if the doctor in her protested, the mother in her wouldn't want someone dying to save her. 

But it didn't stop him from harboring some hope that she was still alive and on the planet. 

He got up from his chair and walked across the room, frowning when he poured the last coffee from the carafe into his mug. He'd just made a fresh pot….he looked at his watch and groaned. Five hours ago.

He turned back to the monitor, resigning himself that this was the last run-through, that the techs had been right and that there was nothing on the UAV but trees. A faint flash caught his eyes and he set down the mug, hurrying back to the computer.

He rewound the tape and played it again, this time concentrating on the very corner of the screen. There. A flash of red and white. Two colors that didn't happen that often in nature. He played it again, frustrated when he could see nothing but that flash.

Adrenaline banishing his fatigue, he removed the tape from the player, frantically trying to think up options. Davis. Davis would be on duty by now.

He hurried from the room, ignoring the faint doubt that he could be wrong, that it was just a trick of his tired eyes.

  
<><><><><>

  
"What happened?" D'Jare asked, returning to the cave from his scouting mission back to the Chaappai. He and Ra'ken had agreed to remain vigilant over the Chappai, both acknowledging that the Tau'ri were likely to return, most likely with the planetary dawn.

He walked over to the Tau'ri woman, kneeling down beside her. She was lying on her side, her face towards the wall. For the first time since they'd taken her prisoner, she didn't acknowledge their presence. He could see that something had happened to M'Reka, the man's throat horribly pierced by a white object. "What did she do to him?"

"Saved his life," Ra'ken said, looking up from his place by the fire. "His throat was swollen. The other Tau'ri died. She was…not happy," he said, looking away from the pair.

D'Jare looked to the other Jaffa and saw confirmation in their eyes. He sighed, reaching down to check on the woman. She was conscious, but she made no move to recoil from his hand. He touched her face, alarmed to find it hot and dry. "She's sick," he said.

Ra'ken nodded. "She has the wound fever. She will probably die unless Lord Anubis deems her worthy and graces her with a sarcophagus," he said. "She may possess enough knowledge to earn that bounty."

D'Jare sighed. His leader was correct in his assessment of the woman's fate. He had witnessed it enough times. Likely she would be revived in the sarcophagus, then tortured for her information. If she were lucky, Lord Anubis would tire of her quickly and she would perish within a moonrise. For a moment he regretted their decisions, the choice they'd made to leave the service of their previous gods and cast their fortunes with that of Anubis. The Tau'ri woman would have been far more likely to gain mercy from Bastet than Anubis.

He felt her stir and looked down. She slowly opened her eyes, pulling away from him when she realized that he was touching her. "Leave me alone," she whispered, moaning slightly as she tried to move.

"You wound is inflamed," he said, pulling back his hand but still remaining close. She dragged herself away from him, slowly and painfully pushing herself up on her arms, crying out softly as her strength failed and she fell back on her face.

He pulled her bag over and moved closer to her. "There is something in here that will help you, will it not?" he asked, deliberately speaking softly. "You saved M'Reka. Let me repay the debt," he said, pulling his knife out of its sheath. He slipped it under the heavy material of her jacket, not surprised when she flinched at his touch. 

He cut the material free, exposing the wound underneath. The lightweight black shirt she wore underneath it was stuck to the wound, crusty with blood and other fluids. He could see the inflammation, smell the odor of the drainage. "Tell me what to do," he said. He reached into the bag and drew out several vials and tubes, the alien writing giving him no clue which, if any of them, would be appropriate to use.

She turned her head towards him. "Let me see." He held them down to her and she picked one. "That's antiseptic. You need to clean it first, get all the dirt out, then put on that ointment and a bandage," she instructed, her voice flat.

"And this?" he held up a small item, one he'd seen her use on both the Tau'ri male and M'Reka.

"Morphine. A painkiller," she explained.

"How much?"

"What?"

"You did not give the whole amount to either your friend or M'Reka. How much is appropriate to administer?"

"Half," she said after a few seconds. "Maybe less."

She guided him through administering the drug and he waited until he noticed her losing consciousness before he started the grim task of cleaning the wound. 

  
<><><><><>

  
"This is pretty sketchy information, Doctor Jackson," Hammond said, holding up the picture to the light.

"It's a freeze frame of a video through the trees, it's not going to be clear….sir," he said, moving to stand in front of the projection screen. "You can see it right here." He pointed at the blurry image. "The red cross on the white field. That's Janet's bag, and since she never left the gate, that means that she's alive down there."

"Why isn't she by the gate, Daniel?" Sam asked.

"Excuse me?"

"She knows that we'll come back for her. She also knows how to dial home and she had a GDO."

"Maybe it was broken," Daniel said.

"Did Captain Graham not possess a GDO as well?" Teal'c asked. 

"Which is precisely why their codes have been locked out," Hammond said.

"What is it with you?" Daniel demanded. "It's….it's like you don't want to find her."

"It's not that, Daniel," Sam hurried to reassure. "It just doesn't make any sense. If Janet's there, why isn't she trying to come home? Even if she doesn't want to risk the GDO, she can still dial us and use the MALP's radio as a relay."

Daniel sighed. "Jack said it was crazy towards the end. Maybe she got hurt, hit her head or something. She's too confused to find her way home."

"Major?"

"We have to know, sir," she answered. She held up the pictures. "Someone is alive on the planet."

"A someone that conceals himself from the UAV," Teal'c said.  
  
"We have to know, sir," Sam said. "If there's even the chance that it's Janet…."

"Agreed," the general said. "SG-1, 3 and 6 will ship out at planetary dawn," he ordered. 

  
<><><><><>

  
Ra'ken stood at the mouth of the cave, taking a moment of privacy before returning into the shelter of the cave. He heard a low droning sound and instinctively ducked back into the cave, cautiously peering out to look up at the sky.

"It is one of their flying machines, is it not?" D'Jare asked, moving up to join him. Ra'ken nodded. "They will return today then," his friend said. "I have noticed that the Chappai must remain open while their machine flies. Soon it will fall from the sky and then they will come."

"They search for their comrades," Ra'ken said, glancing back into the cave. The woman had slept through the night and had yet to fully awaken. D'Jare had spent the night watching over her, much to the amusement of his fellow Jaffa.

"They will arrive before Anubis. We did not conceal our tracks well," D'Jare said.

"This position is defensible."

"You wish to fight them for a dying woman and a corpse?" D'Jare asked.

"What would you have me do? Walk out there and throw myself upon their mercy?" Ra'ken asked. "M'Reka nearly died, and may still die, because of their mercy."

"M'Reka was injured in battle. It is a fate that befits a warrior," D'Jare countered. Ra'ken turned, stopping short when D'Jare grabbed his arm. "If we are still battling the Tau'ri when Anubis arrives, we shall all die," he said softly. "You've seen their weapons. They will come in a greater number than before."

"Then perhaps we shall remove their reason for coming," Ra'ken said, jerking his arm free. He stalked back to the woman, barking orders at one of his men. The man picked up the dead Tau'ri as Ra'ken roughly pulled the woman to her feet. She cried out, swaying from a combination of drugs and pain. Realizing that he no longer had the ear of his leader, D'Jare could only watch as Ra'ken dragged her past him, out of the safety of the cave and to her fate.

  
<><><><><>

  
Teal'c silently led the way, his eyes studying the ground intently. Jaffa had walked this way, more than once. He could see several overlapping tracks, most the same size. This suggested that either several of them had the same size feet or the same Jaffa was repeatedly retracing his steps.

He did not see any human boot prints, however if either Doctor Fraiser or Captain Graham were injured, they might be carried to allow the Jaffa to move more quickly. 

The cawing of birds broke the silence and he raised his hand, signaling the rest to stop. He carefully made his way forward, keeping low to the ground. He sensed Major Carter coming up beside him. "What?" she whispered.

He motioned forward and she pulled out her binoculars. Eight bodies lay among the remnants of a camp, the only movement the flapping of the wings of several large ravens, gorging themselves on the feast. "I only recall six corpses when the UAV surveyed the area this morning," he said.

"There were," she confirmed sadly, recognizing the uniforms of the other two bodies. "Trap?"

"It is possible. However, it is also possible that they merely left the bodies with the rest. Jaffa do not have the same attachment to physical remains as humans do." She paused, her eyes fixated on the figures in the field, obviously torn between the desire to recover her friend and knowing that the last thing Doctor Fraiser would want would be for someone to die for her. "Perhaps if a minimal number went down," he suggested.

She nodded. "Cassandra deserves to bury her mother. So does Graham's wife," she said. "You, Pierce and I will go down. The rest will split up, give us some cover," she said.

He nodded and she made her way back to the rest, giving her orders. She returned and the trio cautiously made their way down to the field. As they approached, the birds startled, some flying away with raucous cries. A couple of them were too gorged to fly and instead flopped awkwardly on the ground, trying to hop away.

Pierce made his way to Doctor Fraiser while he picked up Graham, trusting Major Carter to watch their backs. "Holy shit," Pierce exclaimed. Teal'c turned, struggling to raise his staff weapon while burdened by the body slung over his shoulder.

"What?" Carter asked.

"She's alive," Pierce said, kneeling beside the doctor.

"Oh my god. How?"

Teal'c shifted his focus, his sixth sense telling him that they were not alone. "Major Carter," he said urgently, arming his staff weapon.

She turned back to him, her eyes going slightly out of focus. "I feel them," she said quietly. "Pick her up, Pierce," she ordered, cocking and raising her weapon.

"She might have injuries that we can't see…."

"We've got Jaffa in the area. Pick her up and let's get the hell out of here." Pierce cursed under his breath, immediately picking up the smaller woman in a fireman's carry. Teal'c didn't know if he should be distressed or heartened by the low moan of pain that emanated from the doctor.

They made their way back to the others, moving as quickly as they could burdened by two bodies. They reached the clearing and Daniel opened the stargate. The rescue team quickly left the planet, finally completing their mission and bringing everyone home.

  
<><><><><>

  
Sam hurried down the hall, fighting the urge to run. She nodded at the SF's and knocked on Cassandra's door, not waiting for an answer. She entered the room, her hand automatically going for the light switch on the wall. 

The room was flooded with light and Cassandra sat up on the bed, her eyes wide with fear. "Sam? What's wrong?"

Sam looked down at herself, realizing how she looked to the girl, barreling into her room, still dressed in her battle gear, sans only her weapons. "No. No. It's okay." She hurried over to the bed, sitting down beside her. "Cassie, we got her back. She's hurt and she's in the infirmary but she's alive."

"She's here?" She started to scoot off the bed. 

"They're working on her now. It'll be a little bit before you can see her," Sam said. "But yes, she's home."

  
<><><><><>

  
Janet slowly opened her eyes, the familiar sounds and smells enveloping her. She wondered for a moment if it had all been some horrible dream, a product of too many mission reports and a sleepless night.

A tugging feeling on the back of her hand and a dull ache from her shoulder told her that she hadn't been that lucky.

She could hear the breathing of another person and turned her head, surprised to see Cassandra sitting by her bedside, a large textbook balanced on her knees. The girl was intently reading, occasionally highlighting words and phrases in the book.

Janet closed her eyes for a second, sending thanks to God that she'd made it. She'd honestly thought that she'd never see home or her family again.

  
_Ra'ken dragged her behind him, his hand wrapped around her good arm with bruising force. He didn't speak and she couldn't, her lungs heaving with the effort of keeping up with him. More than once her eyes skittered to the knife at his waist, the zat in its holster at his wrist and she wondered which of these weapons would end her life._

_She heard the cawing of birds and he abruptly let her go. Unable to regain her balance, she fell, crashing to the ground. Too terrified to move, she closed her eyes, waiting for the killing blow. She felt him kneel over her, his face close to hers. "If you have a god, you should pray that your friends arrive before my Lord," he said. "We will be watching. If you betray us, I will show no mercy," he threatened._

_She heard him leave and still she didn't move, desperately afraid that if she tried to return to the gate she'd head in the wrong direction._

  
"Mom?" 

She opened her eyes, pulling herself from the memory. "Cass."

"Hey, you're awake," she said, quickly abandoning her book and getting to her feet. "Are you okay? I can go get Doctor Warner…" she rambled.

"I'm okay," Janet interrupted, reaching out with her IV-encumbered hand to take Cassie's. "A little sore and tired, but I'm okay," she reassured her. Cassandra nodded, gripping Janet's hand tightly and biting her lip. "What?"

"I thought you were dead," she whispered, her face falling and tears welling up in her eyes.

"Oh, honey." Janet reached up, pulling her down. Cassie leaned over the bed, burying her face in Janet's neck. "I'm okay," she said, stroking her hair. "I'm okay."

  
<><><><><>

  
Jack walked past the door, stopping and retracing his steps as his eyes caught sight of a familiar figure in the room. He opened the door, torn between letting Janet have her privacy and having an idea why she was here. More than once he'd done the same thing, paying a visit to the morgue to pay his personal respects. 

She was in her pajamas and robe, her arm in a sling in deference to her injury. He knew whose drawer she was standing over, and he also knew why. "Doc," he said, deliberately keeping his voice light. "You know, last time I snuck out of the infirmary I seem to recall you threatening to tie me to the bed." She jumped at the sound of his voice, but didn't turn around. "And as intriguing as that could be at right time and with the right person, I aah, I sorta think Warner's probably having kittens right about now wondering where you are," he said, ignoring the fact that he was just as AWOL as she was, both of them still patients in the infirmary and definitely not supposed to be wandering around the base. She didn't respond, keeping her back turned to him. "I read the autopsy results. He wouldn't have made it," Jack said, coming to stand beside her. "They said internal bleeding. Nothing short of emergency surgery would have kept him alive."

"We'll never know," she said softly.

Jack stared at her pale face, sighing silently at the sadness and regret in her eyes. "Ya know, in Antarctica, the first time," he clarified. "Carter and I…I told her to leave," he said.

"Sir?"

"The gate wouldn't open. We had no supplies, and there was no way in hell I was going to climb out of that crevasse with my leg. So I told her to go."

"She's never said anything."

"She went," he said. "Said she was going to go get help but we both knew. I knew she'd come back, but I also knew I wouldn't be alive when she did."

She shook her head. "Colonel…."

"I didn't care, Doc. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't in the mood to die. But I didn't want someone else to die because of me." He gently pulled her around to face him. "Graham was the same way," he said, wanting to reassure her more, but knowing that it would fall on deaf ears, that she wasn't ready to hear it.

She shook her head again. "Did you know you wounded two of the Jaffa?" she asked softly.

"No."

"One of them was minor but…another one was… bad." She raised her head to look him in the eyes. "I treated him. Saved his life, at least he was alive the last time I saw him."

"So?"

"Colonel, I helped him. The same man who tried to kill us, who may have fired the shot that killed Graham. Not only did I treat him, for all I know if I'd have just held onto that second IV, saved it for Graham, maybe he could have hung on longer. Maybe he'd be upstairs right now instead of down here."

"And if you'd have let that Jaffa die, maybe you'd be in a bodybag too, or more than likely, on your way to a Goa'uld stronghold," he countered. "You did what you had to do to survive. There's no shame in that. And if you'd have let him die, you wouldn't be the doctor I know and respect," he said softly.

He looked down, noticing the items clutched in her hand. He gently pulled her fingers open, revealing the picture and the ring. "He asked me to give this to his wife," she explained.

"The service is the day after tomorrow," he said, closing her fingers over the items. "We can go together."

  
<><><><><>

  
Sarilla looked up from her needlework, the sound of footsteps outside her home drawing her attention. She looked to her sister, seeing the alarm in the woman's face. It was late and disturbances were rare as their home was far from the merchant's sector and the brothels and drinking establishments contained there.

She saw the ruddy glow of a torch through the small window by the door. Hearing someone's hand on the lock, Lashalla got to her feet, a knife held tightly in her grasp. Both women were wary, knowing that they could be seen as easy targets since it was only the two of them. The door rattled. "Sarilla?"

Sarilla's heart jumped and she stared at her sister for confirmation. "Identify yourself," Lashalla demanded.

"Lashalla? Open the door, woman."

Sarilla smiled, her hands going to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes. She nodded and her sister moved forward, taking the heavy bar from the door. It opened and a man walked in, throwing his cloak back. "My love," she said, levering herself to her feet. "You have returned."

"Yes," he said simply, pulling his wife into an embrace.

She sank against him, reveling in the feel of his warm strong arms surrounding her, making her feel safe for the first time in months. She felt her baby kick and pulled back from the embrace, reaching up to grab his hand and place it on her belly. "Our son knows his father is home."

An incredulous look crossed over his face and she watched him feel the physical contact with their child. She had still been slim when he'd left, the promise of their child hardly seeming a reality. She'd hoped and prayed that he'd return in time for the birth. Return to her a hero, having proved his worthiness to his god. And now that prayer had become reality. She studied her husband, recognizing the changes in him. The last few months had been difficult, she could tell. The lines of his face were leaner, his eyes shadowed with memories of his actions.

She raised her hand, tracing an odd scar at the base of his throat. "M'Reka, what happened?" she asked. She had seen many warriors returned from battle, but none of them carried such a mark.

"I was injured," he said, dismissing her worry. "My primta has healed me, but seems unable to remove the scar." He brought his hand up, wrapping his fingers around hers and bringing her hand to his lips, kissing it gently. "It does not matter," he said. "What matters is that I am home, and I shall be here to welcome our child into the world."

She closed her eyes, not protesting when he swept her up in his arms and carried her to their bedchamber. He was alive, he was home, and nothing else was important.

<><><><><>

M'Reka laid in their bed, his left arm wrapped around his wife's shoulders. His right hand crept to his throat, fingering the scar there. He could not comprehend why it did not heal. He knew it would remain always, a physical reminder of the woman that saved his life. He wondered where she was, if she healed from her injuries or if she succumbed.

He hoped that she survived, it would be a pity if such a spirit was quenched by death.

Sarilla stirred and he brought his hand down, laying it gently over the warm mound of her belly. He could feel the child quicken, moving about within her. 

If he dared to ask such a boon from his god, he asked that his child would possess the same spirit as the Tau'ri healer. For if it did, there would be no goal it could not attain.

  
~Fin~  


 


End file.
